Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1887-05-12

pour waves on waves of glow-worms
nnon the beach. Thus both walk on
until they reach bend in the road be-
tween two swelling downs, where the
broom and sea rushes clash their blades
together like SO many bayonets.
The dog has drawn closer to his mas
ter, and seems to say:
"Well, what do you think? A hun
dred and twenty fretzers to be placed
under lock and key in the safe as soon
as we get back home! That's the way
to build up fortune! IT'S another
piece of ground added to the vine in
closure! Another dish added to the
evening meal! Another bowl of wash
for faithful Hurzof! Nothing like at
tending patients who are willing to un-
loose their purse strings!"
At this point the old woman stopped.
She pointed a finger palsied with age
toward red light, some way off in the
gloom; the house evidently of Wort Kar-
tiff, the herring-curer.
"There?' laconically put in the doc
tor.
YES" nodded the Heterogeneous
mother.
'Hurrah-wow-wow!' struck up Hur-
zof
Just then the Vanglor, vibrating to
its foundations with noise like thun-
der, threw up one huge mass of fuligin-
Gus flames that rent the clouds. DR..
Trifulgas was thrown to the ground by
the force of the conclusion. Regaining
his footing, however, he swore like a
trooper and looked around.
The old woman had disappeared. She
must have fallen through some deep
crevice in the ground, or taken flight
on the floating fog clouds of ocean.
The dog. nevertheless. was there, up
right on his launches. his mouth wide
open, but the Liz hit of his lantern was
blown out.
"Never mind" mumblcd the doctor,
diets go on"
The honest man had pocketed his
120 fretzers, and now felt that he must
earn them.
"A lone light was visible in the dis
tance, half a kertse away. Doubtless
it was the lamp of the dying, or, per-
chance, dead man, and yonder must
be the herring-curer's abode. There
cruld be no mistake, for the old woman
had pointed it out. And so thinking,
under the whistling whiffs of the wind
and the driving swash of the rain, with
tine whole noise of the storm in his
ears. DIR. Trifulgas hurried on in the
direction of the house which, standing
in frort " wide heath, became more
distinctly perceptihle as the wayfarer
4
1t was singular and noteworthy
TACT to observe how much the house of
the herring-curer looked like the doc
tors ''Six-Quatre" at Luktrop. There
was certainly the same arrangement in
The front windows and the little
vaulted door at the side.
DIR. Trifulgas strobe on rs fast as the
Irving gusts of wind and rain would
allow. He reached the door, which
Vas ajar, pushed it open, and entered;
he force of the blast closed it behind
him with bang.
The dog outside howled or was silent
by turns, as when choristers chant the
'erses of a forty hours psalm.
How very strange! 1t might almost
DC affirmed that DR.. Trifulgas had
come back to his own place. This,
however, could not be. He took no
wrong turning on the road, nor did he
ose his way. No, he was certainly at
Val Carniou, and not at Luktrop. Yet,
low came it that his eye dwelt on the
anne low, vaulted corridor, the same
staircase, and the same mas
i've wooden railing, hand-worn like
lis own?
He mounted the stairs and stopped
N the landing.
A faint light came from under the
loor, as at the "Six-Quatre.
Was it snare or delusion. By the
Uncertain glimmer of the lamp he
'aguely recognized his own room.
there was the yellow sofa, aud there
N the right was the old oak chest; and
here on the left was the iron-bound
afe in which he purposed placing his
20 fretzers. Yonder. again. were his
with its leather tassels, his
able with its convoluted legs. and up
N it. by the flickering lamp. his own
;odex, still open at page 1877.
What ails mc?" murmured the doc
OF.
What ails you? Why, you are pal
led with fright. Your eyeballs start
rom their sockets. Your body con-
racts and dwindles in size. An lev
weat chills your skin. on which name
ess horrors silently creep. Quick. or
he lamp will go out for lack of oil.
nd the sick man die. Yes, the bed is
here-his own, one would think. with
IS pillars and baldaquin-a bell as
road as it is long, and the closed cur
aims with their large inwrouSht
overs.
Can this indeed be the bed of poor
erring-curer?
Trembling all over. the doctor drew